


Session 4.2 - Leader of the Pack

by Munnin



Series: The Darthen Empire Campaign [6]
Category: Pathfinder (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Bluebooking, Gen, No context outside the campaign, RPG notes, Spoilers for Session 4, campaign diary, please ignore unless you're playing this game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 10:31:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18313736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Munnin/pseuds/Munnin
Summary: Noises in the night trigger a chain of events that knocks Cass around badly, in more ways than one.





	Session 4.2 - Leader of the Pack

**Author's Note:**

> Don’t bother reading this unless you're playing Pathfinder with me. It really won’t make sense. This is just a spot for me to host some bluebooking / out of session prose. It's not meant for anyone not playing and isn't written to make a lick of sense. I’m just feeding the muses so they let me sleep. 
> 
> Please excuse the mangled google translate Japanese. 
> 
> Co-written with other members of the group.

Having woken Shinokishi and asked Jeff to wake the others, Cass stepped into the treeline, flanking stealthily behind the nervous horses. 

She reached within for the gift that gave her dark-sight. Something her master had taught she might gain in time. It was then she saw the wolves in full, their eyes alight and their fur matted oddly. 

There was barely a heartbeat, no time to cry out a warning before the largest of them leapt at her, teeth closing around her throat as it bore her to the ground. 

There was so much pain. She willed to scream but the teeth drove deep, closing off the passage of air and sound. 

A wave of panic crashed over her, aware in that moment only of heat and blood and death.

Somewhere in the far distance, she heard her name called. Her full name, not the corrupted version in Common. 

After all they had faced, it was obscene to think this would end her. 

That flash of anger was enough to give her strength again, to draw her awareness to the weight of her blade in her hand. 

She thrust up, and up again, feeling blood run over her hand as she pierced the creature’s side. And with the moment’s clarity, she reached for another blade.

The jaws tightened and she felt the life flow out of her, running in hot gouts down her neck. Her hand fell limp, the blade still in it as she fought for breath. There were sounds, distant and muffled beyond the wet growls of the beast. 

Something hit the beast and it jerked. The aborted cry of pain lost in the gurgle of her spilling blood. There was a flash of something passing between her face and the wolf’s. A familiar curve of tamahagane steel. 

She found her grip, unable to focus her eyes so pushing all her strength into her fist. Punching up again with the wakizashi, she almost blacked out as the jaws tightened, the beast’s pain expelled across her face in a growl. 

It pulled at her, shaking her like a child’s doll as it moved to face another foe. She could not tell who, only that the others of the company had joined the fray. 

The thrust of a blade seemed to be enough to distract it and she felt to jaws snap open. The beast drew back a step as it dropped her, leaping over her prone form to attack one of her fellows. 

As if on its own, her blade surged up, finding the belly of the monster mid leap, momentum dragging the blade along its form. Warmth hit her in a rush as its innards fell over her, its form crumpling at her side before it finished its jump. 

Even as she fought for breath, her vision clarified and she saw her companions being harrowed by two more beasts. She reached for the crossbow on her belt, somehow still loaded and aimed.

It was her first time using such a weapon and though she understood its workings, the kick sent a jolt of pain through her torn body and the shot flew wide, the bow falling from her grasp as she fell back to the dirt.

A bubble caught in her throat and she reached up. Her blood was flowing thick and fast, flowing through her fingers as her sight grew blurred once more. 

Someone grab her wrists, trying to pry her hands from her throat. For a moment she fought but then words in Tien reached her ears. Shinokishi speaking to her, asking her where it hurt, what she needed.

Letting him draw her hands aside, she shook her head, unable to draw breath let alone answer his question. Blood bubbled and the pain rolled over her again, drowning the moment’s clarity.

His words continued to flow as he tore open the top of her armour and hastened to assess her wounds. He spoke to her in Tien as he did, his voice straining to stay even. 

She could distantly hear the brittleness at the edge of his words, the panic barely suppressed. Her wounds were dire. Her throat was a ruin, larynx and trachea crushed. The only consolation was her carotid artery was mostly intact, or else she would already have shed her life’s blood. 

He reached up, seemingly without looking and tore the sleeve from his shitagi, binding it around her neck. The tightness of it did little to help her laboured breathing but it did hold back the stream of blood. At least for now. 

“Do you have a potion?” He asked, trying to hold her hazy eyes, her head lolling.

She gestured towards her obi, fingers moving fitfully as she fought not to cough. There wasn’t air enough in her lungs but she could feel the blood pooling in the back of her throat, threatening to drown her. 

He slipped a hand down to seek the bottle tucked within the layers at her waist, popping the cork with his thumb as he lifted her to sit. 

“There will be pain.” He warned, cradling her in his arm, “We will go slowly but you must drink.”

She caught hold of his wrist as he brought the bottle to her lips. Her touch was ice against his skin, the cold of shock leeching the heat from her. She clung to him as he gently tipped the first sip over her lips, the bitter concoction mixing with the copper tang of blood in her mouth.

It was torture and twice her grip on his wrist pushed away a little, warning him to stop as she fought to swallow past the ruin of her throat. But little by little the healing liquid did its work, mending shattered pipes and drawing rended flesh back together.

The pain was still great and shock was swiftly robbing Kazusa of warmth and calm. Her grip on Shinokishi’s wrist was iron, her only anchor-point as she began to shiver violently. 

The cracks in Shinokishi’s calm, hard fought and brittle, began to show as he called to the others for aid, to bring blankets. When his call went unanswered, his voice grew louder, more command than request as her shaking worsened.

She tugged at his wrist, trying to draw his focus. And through blooded lips, her voice came broken and faint. “Common.”

So great was his alarm, he had called to the others in Tien. A speech not one of them would understand. “Thank you.” He whispered to her.

Clearing his throat in embarrassment, he tried again, focusing on remembering his second language, all but forgotten in his haste. “Please, bring blankets? She’s in shock.”

Everett heard the call and hurried over, squatting to wrap a blanket around her. “You don’t look so good, darlin’.” He noticed the grip she had on Shinokishi’s wrist, his skin white around her fingers. “I think you might be needing one of these.” He drew another potion from a pouch. 

Cass reached for it but her free hand shook too badly to grip in, Shinokishi moving to steady her.

Shinokishi looked up at the gunslinger, nodding as he helped her to drink. “You have my profound thanks.”

Everett snorted softly. “Least I can do. I owe her one or two anyway.” He stood up to see what the others had made of the downed wolves.

Able to drink the second faster than the first, Cass let the potion’s healing flow through her, gradually coming to herself and the realisation of her situation – cradled in Shinokishi’s arms, clinging desperately to his wrist. 

She ducked her head, muttering an apology in Tien as she loosened her grip. It did not come easily, her fingers rigor tight but she forced herself to let go. 

“Are you well? Do you need more healing?” He asked, supporting her to sit.

“I will be well. I need rest.” She answered, her voice still rough and shaken. 

She began the motions of a formal apology but he touched her shoulder lightly and shook his head. “There is no need. Now is the time for rest.” He took her by the elbow, helping her to her bedroll. Her armour was slick with gore, more the wolf’s than her own and she shed it before falling into her bed and almost instantly to sleep. 

He lingered a moment, making sure there were blankets enough to stave off the cold both within and without. 

At dawn she woke early, stiff with discomfort and the memory of the night before. Meaning to slip silently out of camp to bathe, she gathered her blood-soiled armour. But as she stepped away, she felt Shinokishi fall in beside her, her body stiffening in awareness of his presence. 

“May I join you?” He asked in Tien, his tone polite.

She hesitated, her shoulders drawn high. “Sincerest apologies but I wish to be alone.” She bowed deeply, answering in deep formality. 

He nodded, aware of the discomfort that radiated off her. “Very well. When you are done, allow me to examine your wounds.” It was carefully phrased, not quite a request but with room for her to refuse if needed. 

She consented with a bow, stepping away swiftly to cleanse herself and her equipment in the chilled water. 

He waited patiently for her, halfway between the camp and the river, both near and secluded from each. The others were stirring now, preparing food and making ready. Piotr and Jeff seemed overjoyed with their prize of wolf meat, planning how best to smoke and dry it. 

Cass returned a little while later, carrying her cleaned armour, her shitagi damp around the open neck. Her eyes were red and her skin pale, smudges of shadow darkening her eyes. 

He held his hands out, palms up and she nodded, tipping her head back to give her assent and present her injuries. 

The skin of her torn throat was tender and fresh, still red where each fanged tooth had driven deep. The potions had closed the wounds but not disguised them, a row of newly formed scars illustrating the curve of the beast’s jaws. 

She held still under his ministrations as he touched and tested, eyes on her face to read every small sign of discomfort. 

And there was much discomfort there to read. Less perhaps of the flesh, and more of the spirit. She embarrassed, ashamed. Of her actions or her vulnerability, he could not tell. 

He lowered his hands, gently drawing her collar closed. “You are mending, and for that I am very glad. As I am to have you with us still.”

She swallowed thickly and lowered her eyes, bowing deeply, unable to form words around the lump in her throat. 

He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, curtailing her bow. “There is no need for such formality between us, especially here. We are not in Minkai. It is something the others do not understand.” He held her eye, a soft smile warming his features. “You have my respect, and I know your respect for me.”

Kazusa pursed her lips, trying to form a reply but the words would not come. Instead she nodded. 

Piotr let out a triumphant yell at something he and Jeff were doing, breaking the tension of the moment and Shinokishi nodded, falling in at her side as they walked back to camp.

They made their way towards the bridge, realising the Gunslinger had gone ahead. Seeing him sitting by the river, Cass waved for the others to wait as she went down to meet him. She shared a passing nod with Piotr, flashing a handsign to stay back till they knew it was safe. His eyes meet hers with a soft flash of worry but he nodded in return. 

Making her way to where Everett sat, she greeted his new companion, accepting Everett’s jibing complement about being small but fierce. She didn’t look all that fierce by the light of day – heavy shadows under her eyes and her face pale and drawn. 

And unusually a little colour showed at the neck of her cloak, strange against the dark colours of her half hidden armour. A strip of [indigo blue cloth](https://develynmcbride.files.wordpress.com/2014/05/82bde1978fa91c564fab2809e0b47376.jpg), embroidered with simple white stars was bound high and tight around her throat, hiding the scars. 

With barely a word, she accepted a rod from the gnome, joining in their fishing only half-heartedly as Everett signalled the others to come. She seemed content, at least for the moment, to sit and warm herself in the morning sun, relaxed and at ease. A ruse she doubted was fooling anyone who knew her.

The night’s attack and its consequences had shaken her to the core. It would take her some time to come to terms with it. But as things had been of late, what little time they had would be stolen moments of peace like this. It was all she could do was lock her fears in a box and bury them deep. Soon enough, there would be another fight.


End file.
